Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Samoas are yummy

So, it's my birthday. I've found that once you reach a certain age; i.e. anything above 21, birthdays aren't too exciting. You still have to work; you don't get to buy an excessive amount of scratch tickets and cans of Copenhagen for your father. You don't get to wear a velvet dress anymore. (Side note—I totally had one too. And I was a hottie in it, but I digress.) You don't get a piƱata or tickets to visit your neglectful mother in Florida. You don't get attacked by a hot guy with a bad toupee. You can't try to seduce your cold skinned boyfriend who is protecting his "virtue" whatever the fuck that is…You don't get dream catchers from muscled boys who speak basic Spanish. Oh wait. That wouldn't happen to me at all...

Do I need to knock a bitch out to wear velvet again?

Instead, I have to work, which is fine I suppose. I have gotten some pretty sweeet presents including a wilted daffodil and dollar store lotion. Ah, the perks of teaching two year olds...At least I get to gorge myself on Girl Scout cookies.

See even Rob likes them. He wants me to have a happy birthday...

So to be as narcissistic as I am. Happy Birthday to Me!

1 comment:

  1. Happy Birthday To You love! I think you should wear your velvet dress as we celebrate your new age!!!! Let's do it!!!!


Search This Blog

Who am I?

My photo
Pacific Northwest, WA, United States
The (Somewhat) true tales of twenty something northwest woman obsessed with Twilight, Pageants and various shallow things.

The Countdown has begun...

What am I doing here?

Beware of some mature content in here. You've been warned.

This is just the rantings of a woman who is slightly crazy. Obviously I am a bit narcissistic. I have obsessive tendencies toward a multitude of teenage directed materials. I should grow up already-but alas, here I am.


My Blog List